This Means War
by AryRiddle
Summary: Sansa and Sandor are going through a nasty divorce. "Irreconcilable differences," she says. "Bullshit," he says. Sandor refuses to sign the divorce papers, so Sansa sends him a message... by throwing his stuff out the window. War is coming, and neither side plans to lose. Modern AU.


**I own nothing. It all belongs to George R. R. Martin!**

**I was writing lovey-dovey SanSan one day and then I wondered: how would this two be during a divorce? And I got an hilarious mental image so I decided to write! **

**I hope you like it! This was originally going to be a one shot but I decided to do maybe two or three chapters. I warn you, this is not beta'd.**

**Review? Enjoy reading! ^.^**

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Sandor pulled over on the roadside and turned the engine off. He was surprised that that shitty car that he owned had managed to drive him all the way up there, to be honest. He had expected that big piece of metal crap to leave him hanging in the middle of the road in some goddamned unknown neighborhood, but he was pleased it hadn't been the case. He missed his old car, a black SUV. That had been a fucking good car, unlike the piece of junk he was now forced to drive everywhere. It was embarrassing. He would but another one, but the situation he was living at the moment wasn't the best one to go around wasting money.

He remained in the car for a little bit more, looking through the open window towards the house in front of which he had parked. It was a nice light yellow house of two floors and an attic. The neighborhood was in the suburbs of New York, in an accommodated area. The front yard was well taken care of, with it's grass cut and the flowers looking fresh and beautiful. Everything was perfect. The neighbors were polite, though nosy, but Sandor didn't care about them in that moment. He remembered when he had bought that house, five years ago, and he had first moved into it after returning from his honeymoon carrying his laughing wife in his arms. He remembered that day and he gritted his teeth with rage. Those last five years had been the best of his life, buy lately everything had been going downhill. And now there he was, driving a shitty car, living in a shitty tiny apartment, and his wife wanted to divorce him.

Well, fuck that.

He got out of the car and walked through the front yard all the way up to the house's front door. He still had his keys, and he meant to open the fucking door and get inside his fucking fucking door so that he could have a fucking proper conversation with his wife for the first time in weeks. Lately, it all had been angry calls on the phone and ugly disputes through lawyers. Fucking lawyers... They only complicated things more, and Sandor's lawyer was sucking the money out of his pockets like a leech sucks blood!

_Bloody bastard,_ Sandor muttered in his mind while he tried to open the door with his set of keys...

...But the keys wouldn't open the door. They didn't even fit inside the doorlock!

_She's changed the fucking locks!_ he realized, indignant, after wondering for a few seconds if maybe he had the wrong key. But no, that was the right key alright, it just wasn't the right doorlock.

What the fuck did she do that for?! Did his wife think that he was going to appear in the middle of the night out of nowhere and steal something or kill her, like some of those bloody fuckers did? He had hoped she knew him better than that after all those years together, and he didn't mean just their marriage!

Sandor cursed under his breath and gave up trying to open the door. He rang the bell a few time and he waited for a response. He didn't after three times, so he wondered if maybe Sansa was out for the day. He walked away from the front door and approached the closed garage door. He looked through the window, and saw that both cars (the black SUV that he was missing so much, and Sansa's silver Audi,) were still there; the only places in which his wife was interested in going were miles away and she needed the car to go, and she didn't have any friends living nearby enough to go visit them on foot. She was still home, and she was ignoring him. Sandor grunted again and took one last look at both cars inside the garage. Why the fuck had Sansa kept both and made him but that piece of shit that he was now driving around? Certainly she didn't need both the SUV and the Audi! Sandor had originally bought the silver Audi for himself, and Sansa planned on buying a Mini Cooper for herself. However, soon Sandor had decided that the Audi was too classy and fancy and small for him, and Sansa had fallen in love with it and kept it, forgetting all about the damn Mini Cooper. And now she had kept the goddamn black SUV as well!

He went back to the door, and instead of ringing the bell he slammed his huge hand against the door.

"Sansa!" he called her, raising his voice but at the same time trying to keep calm and peaceful. He didn't want to scare her and have the fucking neighbors calling the cops. "Sansa, I know you are in there! Open the door!"

No answer. He knocked again.

"Sansa! Please, open the door! We need to talk!" he continued calling her, practically begging her to listen to him. He knew she was there, he knew it. But seven hells, she was a stubborn woman! "Sansa! Open!"

_This is humiliating,_ he thought. Locked outside his own fucking house. Well, he should have seen that coming...

After all, how did he expect that story to end? With Sansa and him having a happily ever after? Fuck no. She had everything, and he had nothing to offer her. She was beautiful and kind and sweet, and he was ugly and rude and a brute. They were total opposites. He really shouldn't have been surprised the day she told him to get out of the house. It was just normal, she deserved better, and she wanted more. Could he really judge her because of that, when it was what he had in truth always wanted for her?

But at that moment he wasn't going to give up so easily. He needed to talk to her, and he needed her to listen to him. That wouldn't be possible if she continued to be a stubborn mule.

_Well, she learned that from you, dog, among many other things,_ he mocked himself.

He gave up knocking on the door, it was probably useless. Either Sansa couldn't hear him, or she was ignoring him, or she was really not at home. Sandor sighed and took his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. He put the phone against his ear and waited, hoping that she would pick up the call and speak to him...

He started hearing music all of a sudden, and he frowned. It came from above him, so he raised his head and looked at the second floor window of the house, and he found that it was open. The music came from his bedroom (well, what had been their bedroom, and now it was just Sansa's) and he guessed that it was her phone. She had her phone next to the window, and Sansa never left her phone behind. Was she really ignoring him?

_That's not her usual ringtone_, he realized as he listened to the unfamiliar song, and then he froze when he heard the lyrics.

_**I guess I just lost my husband,/ I don't know where he went,/ So I'm gonna drink my money,/ I'm not gonna pay his rent (nope),/ I got a brand new attitude and/ I'm gonna wear it tonight,/ I wanna get in trouble,/ I wanna start a fight.***_

Sandor scoffed when he heard the song. He didn't know whether to be amused and laugh, or get irritated.

_So this is how it's gonna be..._ he muttered in his mind. _Sansa, pick up the fucking phone..._

A couple seconds later, she did. He stopped hearing the bloody goddamn song, and the sound of those annoying lyrics was replaced by the lovely sound of Sansa's voice.

"_Hello?_"

"Sansa."

"_Yes?_"

He took a moment to analyze the tone of her voice. He had always loved how cheerful it sounded, but she didn't sound like that anymore. It was more... Defiant.

"Can you open the door?"

Silence.

"_Why?_"

"I want to talk to you."

Silence again. Sandor waited, and for a moment he feared that she might have hung up on him. He looked at the screen of the phone to see of that was the case, but he saw that the call was still going on. He raised his head to the window of the bedroom, and it was then that Sansa stuck her head out of the window and looked down at him.

She was as beautiful as always. She had braided her long and thick auburn hair, but a few short strands were loose and hung around her face in a pretty way. She was white blouse that was very tight, and it only made Sandor groan lowly with frustration. He wanted to be up there in the bedroom with her, not down there in the front yard begging to be allowed inside his own fucking house. He didn't say anything, though; Sansa's expression was very stern.

_Seven hells,_ he thought. Sansa always reserved that expression for occasions in which she was very angry with him for something that he had done... And in that moment, he could guess that he knew exactly why she was glaring at him with murderous eyes.

_She's still as beautiful as ever, even though she looks like she wants to feed me to the dogs._

Sansa hung up her phone, which she had been holding in her hand while she looked down at Sandor, and she put it away. Sandor did the same, and he held her gaze while she continued glaring daggers at him.

"Are you going to sign the divorce papers?" she asked then.

Sandor grimaced, and the scars on the right side of his face twitched in an ugly way because of it. He had guessed right. Sansa was pissed off with because of that... It wasn't really a thing that he wanted to talk about, but it was all that his wife had been talking about in the last months.

He put his hands on his hips and sighed before shaking his head.

"No."

Sansa leaned in on the window sill and raised an eyebrow.

"No?" she asked, and Sandor shook his head again.

"No," he repeated stubbornly.

One again, a heavy silence fell over them. Sandor awaited patiently for Sansa to speak first. She looked like she was meditating over something. At least she wasn't glaring at him with murderous anymore...

Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Okay..." she murmured, still not looking at him.

"Okay?" he repeated. "So... Little bird, are you going to let me in?"

"Hold on a second," she said before walking away from the window and disappearing inside the room.

Sandor waited there, thinking that she was walking downstairs to open the door for him and finally let him in. He looked away from the window and turned his head to take a look around the neighborhood. He thought that he could see the front door neighbor spying behind the curtains of her living room. Nosy neighbors... Sandor certainly didn't miss _that_.

He was still distracted, looking around and with his hands on his hips when something hard hit him in the head. The impact made him grunt in pain and take a few steps back. She shook his head and put his hand on his head, when suddenly another object him him hard, this time in the belly. He was breathless for a moment, and shocked, and he raised his arms up over him to protect him from more falling objects.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, and then he saw what had hit him lying on the ground next to him. It was one of his pair of shoes that he had left in the house along with some other pieces of clothing and things that belonged to him. He frowned, and then he looked up to the window in time to see Sansa throwing a third shoe at him. This time he ducked, and the show flew over him. "Sansa, what the fuck?!"

She didn't reply, she just kept throwing stuff at him. She had gathered all his belonging that we're still in the house in a big pile of clothes that she had put next to the window, and she was grabbing and throwing them out into the front yard.

"Sansa!" Sandor called her, trying to make her stop. "Little bird!"

"Don't you call me little bird!" she yelled at him, picking up some of his clothes at the same time and throwing them out the window. "You don't get to call me that anymore! Only my husband can call me little bird."

"Sansa, I'm still your husband!" he yelled. While he did so, he tried catching some of his clothes in the air as they fell around him, but most of them were scattered all around the front yard. "I haven't signed the fucking papers!"

"Well, I want you to fucking sign them!" the yelled back at him, throwing another big pile of clothes out of the window. Sandor had seldom seen her so hysterical; Sansa never cursed, and she always acted like the proper little lady. Now, seeing her cursing and throwing his stuff around, he could tell how badly he had really pissed her off.

_Did I really screw off that badly?!_ he had to admit he was surprised. Who knew such anger could exist inside his lovely wife?! In a certain and strange way, he was liking it. He just wished she would stop making his personal belongings fly all around him.

"Can I just talk to you for a second?!" he asked. Sansa responded by throwing another shoe at him.

"We are already talking!"

"Inside, please!"

"_No!_ I always tried to do it my way, in a civilized way, but you would not have it that way! So now, we are doing things your way, _honey!_" a rain of underwear fell on him. Sandor quickly kicked them out of sight, embarrassed. "_Sign the papers!_"

"_I won't sign the fucking goddamn bloody buggering papers!_"

Another item hit him in the head while he was distracted exploding into curses, and when he looked down he saw it wasn't another shoe: it was a small plastic bag with his toothbrush, toothpaste and hand soap that he had left in the bathroom the day he was kicked out.

Sansa sent one last thing flying out the window into the front yard. The object landed at his feet: it was a folder, which opened after hitting the ground and the papers inside it scattered around Sandor's feet. The divorce papers.

Sandor saw red, and he gritted his teeth. He tried not to be mad, but there was something burning up inside him... Something not good. Definitely not good. He raised his head to look at the window again.

"Sansa..." he growled, but he found that Sansa had closed the window and moved away from it.

There was no point in trying to continue arguing that day. He would have to come back some other day, and try to talk with her without having both of them at each other's throats within two seconds. Rather impatiently, Sandor picked all his belongings that Sansa had thrown out of the window and gathered them in his arms. When he was finished he heard a soft giggle and someone whistling. He looked to the side and found the next-door neighbor in his front door, looking at him and laughing. The man had been their neighbor since they had first moved in to that place, and Sandor didn't particularly like the guy. He was bald and short and shady, and Sandor thought he was too nice to be genuine. He was one of the nosy neighbors, and he loved gossip more than any old grandma or housewife.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Sandor rasped, and his neighbor giggled again before shrugging.

"Oh, nothing, my dear friend... I was just admiring your wife's strong temper. Quite admiring, don't you think?"

"Fuck off, Varys..." Sandor grunted, and his bald neighbor smirked.

"Nice to see you too, Clegane."

Sandor ignored him, and he looked at the window again in hopes that Sansa would be there again. Unfortunately, she wasn't. She had made it very clear, she wasn't going to see him, or talk to him, or even try to be nice to him. Not until he signed the divorce papers.

Sandor narrowed his eyes and glared at the window.

_Very well, little bird. If war is what you want, I'll give you war,_ was his last thought before returning with his things to the car.

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***So What- P!nk.**


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